


Gone - A Second-Chances Interlude

by littlemisscurious



Series: Tom, Olivia, Henry & Madeleine [3]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Arguing, Established Relationship, F/M, blind OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4427990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set before Chapter 26 of Second Chances - Glimpse of what had happened to make Tom leave</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone - A Second-Chances Interlude

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Second Chances](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016794) by [littlemisscurious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious). 



“Could you stop leaving your bloody things everywhere? You might have forgotten but I can’t see and every damn day there’s another pair of shoes or another bag or another whatever the fuck I just ran into lying on our hallway floor. It’s bloody annoying, Tom,” Olivia spat, kicking the bag aside, probably hurting herself more than the bag itself before she marched on into the kitchen.

Tom raised his eyebrows as he looked up from his script and at his girlfriend who had just returned home after another day at the university library in exactly the same mood as the days and weeks and months prior.

“Good evening to you, too,” he replied, sarcastically, before adding a bookmark to his script of _Close Enough_ and putting it aside.

She only growled in response and flung the fridge door open, almost hitting Sam in the process and the Labrador quickly backed away, tail between his legs. Was it him his mistress was so angry with? Torn between his duty to her and his fear of being berated, he remained by the entrance to the kitchen and watched her warily.

 

“Could you tell me why you always barge in here in the worst of moods every single day you’ve been at uni? Because this is bloody annoying,” Tom asked, leaning in the doorway himself now.

“Oh excuse me that I’m not as cheerful as you all the time, Mr ‘My-life-is-perfect-what-about-yours?’,” she only retorted sharply, pushing past him and accidentally stepping on Sam’s tail in the process. The dog let out a whine and moved aside when Olivia stopped mid-stride. Taking a deep breath, she leaned down. “I’m so sorry, Sam. Come here, boy. I didn’t mean to hurt you, darling,” she mumbled into his ear and glad to be in her favour again, he briefly licked her cheek.

 

When she had vanished upstairs with her four-legged companion, Tom’s hand met the cupboard door with a loud bang, making the cups inside rattle. It wasn’t easy to make him mad, in fact he was probably one of the most patient persons around, but enough was enough. For weeks he had to listen to her ranting about everything and nothing. Nothing could please her. If he was gone, which he was more often than not these days with Cannes and Wimbledon and Comic Con approaching, she was complaining about him leaving her behind. When he was home, she was complaining about him, or rather his stuff, being everywhere.

He no longer knew how to behave or what to say and he hated tiptoeing around his girlfriend simply because she was frustrated with herself or her work. Things were going good for him right now and he had wanted to share all this with Olivia. She wasn’t interested. Or if she was, she was too busy complaining about everything else to make it known.

Pouring himself a scotch, he opened the patio door and stepped outside. He wondered if he should call his mother but decided against it. He was old enough to make decisions of this nature on his own. And anyway, his mother would probably advise him against it.

 

It was late when he went back inside. The moon was already out and most of the lights in the neighbouring houses had been turned off. Upstairs, he could see Olly was still up because the light of her laptop illuminated their bedroom. Taking another last breath, Tom got up and closed the door behind him. His empty glass he placed into the dishwasher and his scripts, his schedules, his tablet and laptop, his phone and his charger and a few of his books, he put away neatly in the bag Olly had kicked away earlier.

Afterwards, he walked upstairs into their second bedroom, which they now used as a walk-in closet. Grabbing a bag, he filled it with the clothes he’d need for the next weeks. He’d go to Paris with Hayley and the director of their new project the next day and afterwards he’d be in Cannes, in New York, and then back in London. His suits were already dry cleaned and ready and he added them to the pile of clothes on the empty bed. It didn’t take him long to pack. He’d done it so very often in the past weeks and months, he no longer needed to think. Filling a second bag with shoes and underwear, he silently walked into the bathroom to fill his toilet bag. Once that was done, he added it to the bag with the shoes as well and glanced around once more.

 

“What are you doing?,” Olivia asked quietly, now standing in the door.

“I’m packing,” Tom replied, trying to keep his voice calm, although he didn’t bother to turn around. She wouldn’t see it anyway.

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m going away.”

“Where to?”

“Paris, Cannes, New York…,” he said, not yet mentioning the hotel he’d stay at afterwards. Or maybe he could stay with Ben for a bit?

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know.” He looked at her now, awaiting her reaction to this utterance. He always knew when he’d be back. She seemed confused.

“What do you mean? Didn’t Luke give you a schedule? Or Olly?” She fumbled with the hem of her jumper, all of a sudden looking much younger, much less angry than earlier. He almost changed his mind. Almost.

“I know when I’ll be back in London, Olivia. But I don’t know when or if I’ll come back here,” Tom said, glad this time she couldn’t see his face, his eyes, that still betrayed his love for her.

Olivia opened her mouth to say something but no words came out. A few moments passed and when none had been said still, Tom grabbed his bags and his suits and walked past her out of the room and downstairs to his car.

 

Her steps were slow and tentative on the stairs and afterwards on the small pebbles of their driveway.

“When will you be back, Tom?,” she asked again, her voice wavering. Her hand was resting on the black roof of his Jaguar, slowly inching its way towards him but he stepped aside and closed the boot.

“I’m not sure I will be back, Olivia. I’m not sure I can still do that. I love you, I truly do. But sometimes love isn’t enough to keep going. Not with how you are and have been for the past few weeks. Make use of the time while I’m gone and think about what you truly want. Because I’m no longer sure it’s me,” he said, quietly, and breathed a kiss onto her forehead.

Ruffling through Sam’s fur afterwards, he picked up his messenger bag as well, flung it onto the passenger seat and sat down behind the steering wheel.

“Take care, Olly,” he mumbled before closing the door. Olivia stepped aside, too shocked, too surprised, to act and only when he had steered the car off the driveway and onto the small London road, did she realise she was crying.

 

He was gone and this time, maybe, for good.


End file.
